Long Way Down
by Rochelle B2
Summary: Second chances are hard to come by, so when Hotstreak is offered a chance to avoid jail he takes it. Working with the police force isn’t bad; it’s working with Static and Gear that proves…different. (Slash, VFR.)
1. Default Chapter

Long Way Down

Authors: Rochelle B and an extremely disgruntled Dimitri Aidan

Fandom: Static Shock

Rating: Starts of around PG, eventual R

Pairings: Virgil/Francis/Richie and various incarnations of such. Sharon/Adam, mentions of Francis/Aqua

Warnings: Meh. Slash, Violence, Language.

Notes: (Chelle) I've decided to take Dimitri hostage. He came over to baby-sit my daughter and I kind of locked him in the computer room. I demand ransom. Heh. This kind of cropped up after he wrote 'That's All I Need'. He just laid out such a good plot…

(Dimitri) …actually my computer died so I had to bribe Rochelle to let me use hers. I need to buy a new power source. Times like this I almost wish I worked enough to do something other than pay for my car.

Summery: Second chances are hard to come by, so when Hotstreak is offered a chance to avoid jail he takes it. Working with the police force isn't bad; it's working with Static and Gear that proves…different.

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Chapter One  
Scars Remind Us  
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"Wake up Francis." A swift kick to his chair jarred him into the world of the more-or-less awake. He dimly heard his shit-for-brains public defender making a noise of protest. He pushed a strand of damp hair out of his face; cursing the 'mist system' the room was equipped with. The vents, instead of putting out cool air, pushed out a steady stream of mist that kept him just wet enough that he couldn't so much as get a decent spark going.

He yawned and glared at the man looming over him. Assistant District Attorney Shutze; also known as Hotsteak's own personal pain in the ass with the authority to be a pain in the ass. They were very familiar, sadly. Shutze delighted in putting him in prison for however long was possible. The first time had been when he was seventeen; a nice six-month stint _lets here it for good behavior_ for setting some police cars on fire. Then a few weeks after he'd gotten out he'd gotten a year for breaking and entering. Again, good behavior.

And now, here he was, two weeks from twenty and he'd been busted for arson. The worst part was, in his humble opinion, that he hadn't even done it on purpose. He'd lost his temper and things had caught on fire… It wasn't like he could really help it.

It wasn't his fault that the justice system refused to pay to cure the Bang Babies it locked up. He thought it was kind of ironic actually. Lock him up because of his power, but refuse to shell out the cash to make it so he couldn't use it anymore. But hey, the citizens of Dakota (geniuses that they were.) had voted against using the money for such things.

"Francis."

"I hate it when you call me that."

"I know. Do you know what this is?"

"The lovely integration room, of course. We've had a lot of good times here." He stretched, back popping as he did. He glanced over at his lawyer, who didn't look much older than he was, with pale brown hair, watery blue eyes, and a washed out skin tone. As usual the man looked three minutes from pissing himself. Hotstreak had heard he did that to be people.

"No Francis." The ADA snorted darkly. "This, my friend, is your third strike. Three major crimes and you're done for life."

"I thought this was my first major crime." He glanced over at his lawyer who just shrugged nervously. "This is the first time I'm not a minor."

"But, my dear Francis, destruction of public property and B&E are very major crimes. All I had to do was petition for your record to be included and, since you're such a constant problem and it seems you just aren't capable of surviving in normal society, the Grand Jury decided it was okay."

He frowned. That wasn't true. He'd been doing pretty good since he got out, laying low and keeping his crimes along the petty level to keep out of trouble. Another look at his lawyer, who seemed to be bordering around the terrified level of things.

"Did we know about this petition?"

"…Yes. I tried to, erh, fight it but we lost. Badly."

"Why didn't you say anything about it?"

"I…didn't want to worry you?"

He sighed and shook his head slowly. "You are such a fuckwad."

Shutze made a noise like he agreed then smiled in a way that made Hotstreak more than a little nervous. "So what do you think prison forever is going to be like? Maybe you can find yourself a nice boyfriend to take care of you?"

He snorted. "I'm a pyro, no one would dare mess with me."

"Ah, that's the even better news! If you go back you'll finally get that cure. Lifers have to be kept under control you know."

That made him pause. He wasn't some kind of pussy of course; he could more than take care of himself against most people. However a few years from now, when younger people came in he might be in a little bit of trouble.

Prison was one place you didn't want to make trouble if you didn't have people backing you up and he hadn't had people on his side for a very long time. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to think. Life. He was going away for life. Crappy gray clothing, his own special number, and crappy food for the rest of eternity.

"Oh fuck."

"Indeed." The man looked almost…gleeful. He was such an asshole. "However there is another option."

"Death?"

"I wouldn't dare give you the satisfaction." Shutze said with, shit-eating grin firmly in place. "I assume you remember your good friend Ebon."

He scowled, remembering the rat-fucking bastard a lot better then he wanted to. Ebon had gotten out on good behavior after the car incident, allowed himself to be cured, and then vanished off the radar, leaving Hotstreak blowing in the goddamn wind. Ebon had swore when they got out it was the two of them, all the way, finally ruling Dakota, and then he'd run off.

Hotstreak owed him.

"I'll take the growling as a yes. We believe he has something to do with a new drug circulating. It's called Satarel."

"Angel of Hidden Things." Hotstreak rolled his eyes. "I kept telling him to lay off that poetic shit. It's a dead giveaway. So, what, you think I know something?"

Because if that were the case he'd gladly make something up, or shake loose a little information. If he could manage to get out of jail while screwing Ebon over all the better. They were just making it too damn easy for him.

Shutze laughed, a loud grating sound that made him wince, then smile. "I sincerely doubt you know much of anything about anything." He glowered. "It's the side effects of the drug that your talents are needed to handle."

"Which are?"

"Mutation similar to those caused by the Big Bang. After prolonged use of the drug the person changes and, usually, goes on a rampage until they come off the high. Then they change back." His confusion must have showed on his face because the ADA rolled his eyes. "The police are having a difficult time catching and subduing the Angels, which is what we call those hopped up on Satarel. We can't do much against a bunch of drugged up, strung out, super powered freaks."

"And you want me to…help? Aren't Sparky and Gadget handling it?"

"Static and Gear are the only thing that's keeping things even close to under control, but they can't be all over the place at once. We see half a dozen or so people take flight everyday. And then when it's over, if they aren't caught, they just…go off the radar." A long pause. "And yes. We would like you to…help. The Angels don't have the same power or skill as the Bang Babies so you would be useful."

He smiled. "It kills you to offer me chance to skate doesn't it?"

Another laugh. "Hardly. I know you and your type. You'll fuck it up royally and be back in here for some more of our special bonding within a few months. Saving people and doing right? Not your thing."

He frowned. This was why he hated this guy. He was so damn smug and judgmental, just like every other cop or 'civil servant' he encountered. They all assumed the worst about him. Not that he gave them much else to work with, but if not for that flare up things would be fine.

"You don't have to do it. If you get convicted, which you may not since you swear it was accidental, we can always appeal. I'm sure this is less than legal."

"Shut. Up. Fuckwad." His lawyer squeaked then sunk low in his seat. No wonder he kept going down for shit. This guy was a moron. "I'll do it."

"What a shock. A woman named Sharon Hawkins will be your parole officer. You can't contact anyone you knew before and you'll be living a perfectly normal life, complete with school and a steady job. Most people have forgotten about you and you should leave it that way. Officially Hotstreak is gone. You should leave it that way." Another smile. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon."

He flipped Shutze the bird before glancing to the side. The door opened and a uniformed officer stepped in. He was holding a set of keys, presumably to unshackle him from the table.

"Officer McKay will be escorting you to the van waiting for you, which will take you back home, where you'll meet Ms. Hawkins."

"Sounds fun." He said with fake cheerfulness. He held up his hands to be unlocked. McKay, who seemed more like a grandfather than someone trusted to transport him across the state, walked over. He smiled mildly before slapping a bracelet of sorts onto his arm. It looked like a simple, plain, piece of black leather that was a bit too big. It beeped before tightening onto his wrist snugly. "The fuck?"

"Newest technology from Luthor Corp." Anti-mutant bastards that those guys were, it was less than a total surprise. "It hones into your power signal and acts as a tracking device. Then, as an added bonus, if you act up or have a 'flare up' the person with the receiver will zap you with a pulse of electricity. The longer you stay out of control the more it will hurt, until you eventually pass out."

"That can't possibly be legal." His lawyer protested. Hotstreak just glared at him again, moving the man to silence. It wasn't like he gave a damn about legal. As long as he was out he'd make the rest up as he went along.

This did, at least, explain why he got such a harmless looking guard. Not that it mattered. As long as he kept anything less than legal under wraps he'd be fine. Besides, a little electricity wouldn't mean much to him. Not after how many times Static had been so kind as to shock him into unconsciousness at least.

"You won't have the receiver will you?"

"I wish." He smiled wryly. "I don't know who has the privilege of pulling your strings Francis. I assume it's being kept quiet so you can't track them down."

Made sense. He stood silent as he was unchained and a bag of normal clothing was shoved into his hands. McKay grunted something about dressing in the van, while his lawyer simpered and insisted that he call him the minute he got a chance and keep a record of any unfair treatment.

Hotstreak just blinked at him before following after McKay. His ankles and wrists were still shackled and he was still damp but he resolved to try and melt this thing off of his arm the minute he got a chance. Maybe this time he'd leave the state, maybe the country.

Life in prison was far from appealing.

Though…the idea of helping to nail Ebon was a pleasant one, almost worth working with the cops for a while. Maybe he'd meet this Hawkins lady (that name was very familiar actually), see what was what, and then make his decision.

After all, they didn't really think some little bracelet could hold him did they?

* * *

"It's heat resistant." Sharon Hawkins was a nice looking woman, but nice in an attractive way as opposed to a personality way. She had dark coco skin and long hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She was wearing a pale gray suit with a pink top, which matched her nails, and was very…flattering figure wise.

She wasn't hard on the eyes to say the least.

Her attitude however…

Well she was brash and rude. Had ordered him to sit down and shut up the minute he walked into her office so she could finish yelling at her little brother. Ironically enough she was the older sister of the kid he used to torment in high school. The framed photo on her desk, consisting of four men and herself, showed that. Virgil was standing next to his friend, Foley, and smiling like an idiot.

Not a big stretch for him.

Hotstreak hadn't spared either of those dorks a second thought since he'd been expelled when his powers first surfaced. He'd gotten his GED in Juvie, for lack of anything else to do with his time, and he assumed those two had graduated with all the other norms.

He'd been staring at the tracker, contemplating how long it would take to take it out. He couldn't burn himself, being heat resistant himself, so he could turn it up as much as possible.

"Heat resistant?" He wasn't impressed. Heat resistant just meant it'd take longer to melt. Most things had a melting point, no matter what the label claimed.

"Not really." She smiled crookedly. "It runs on heat. The more you put in the stronger the material becomes. It was made just for pyros."

Fuck. Figured. Lex Luthor was a known mutate-hater and undoubtedly the prospect of binding them from 'harm' appealed to him. He wasn't a fan of the Justice League or anything, but he kept hoping they'd kick that bastard into the next galaxy over.

Her smile got a little bit bigger. "I take it you didn't want to hear that. Sorry."

"I doubt that."

"As you should." She reached onto her desk and picked up a red folder. "You will be living at 23 Gabrielson Road, a block from Dakota U Campus. You will go to Dakota U and you will maintain a 2.5 otherwise you're going to back to jail. You will work at the on-campus café and, after the first two months, start paying your own bills. If you get fired or fall behind on your bills you're going back to jail. You have a 1 AM curfew on school nights, 3 AM on weekends, and you won't drink, do drugs, or otherwise break the law or else you're going back to jail. If you get on my nerves you're going back to jail. If you screw up you're going back to jail. If you interfere in the police investigation or with Static and Gear-"

"I'm going back to jail. I got it."

She smiled. "So you aren't as stupid as you look. Promising."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." She tossed the folder towards him. "You don't get a car, so I'd advise you stay close to campus most of the time. You have an allowance, for the moment, for clothes and food and such. Refrain from wasting it. Your class list and work schedule for the next week are in there, along with your key and Campus Housing number. Oh, and money for the bus. That's it, get out."

He blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I have work to do. I'm sure you aren't interested in talking to me, I don't particularly want to talk to you at the moment, and you have to work in an hour. Why beat around the bush?"

He blinked again then smiled thinly. "I already like you more than my other parole officer."

"You had Opest right? She's a twit. Thinks she can bond with and change every person who comes through her office when really everyone just wants to strangle her." She moved her bangs from her face while snorting. "I hate those types."

He laughed. "I really like you."

"I'm engaged and I don't date little boys." Her smile was crooked, but slightly nicer. "However I will give you a ride to the campus. I need to check on my idiot brother anyway. Apparently he can't find his apartment."

"He never was the sharpest tool."

Her smile faded slightly. "Another rule: Only I am allowed to mock and demean my brother and Richie. If I catch you doing it I'll put my foot down your throat. And then I'll send you back to jail."

"Yes ma'am." He mock saluted. She nodded and stood up, gathering her things.

"Keep that up and we'll get along fine."

* * *

Dimitri: Hmm.

Rochelle: Hmm? What Hmm?

Dimitri: Just pondering things.

Rochelle: Don't hurt yourself sparky.

Dimitri: Ha ha. I was thinking…if I update every few days and you aim for every other week…are we talking weekly updates?

Rochelle: Sounds about right.

Dimitri: Oh. Cool. There you go folks, another chapter in a week. Or so.


	2. SemiCharmed Kinda Life

Long Way Down

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Chapter Two

Semi-Charmed Kind of Life

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It was warm out and the air had the compressing stiffness that it always carried during the transition from summer to autumn. It wasn't exactly comfortable yet he found himself with the window down, arm resting on the door and head on his arm.

He watched the people and the buildings and the random scenery flash past and tried to take it all in. He could hear people and cars and just…things. The sounds of life.

It was strangely…thrilling. Being outside again for something other than that hour of 'yard time' he'd been afforded. He'd only been in a few months, waiting for his trial, but even being locked up for a while made him…weak and needing to escape.

Mainly because they kept him wet and he couldn't use his power, maybe just because fire wasn't meant to be contained…whatever it was he always came out hurting, feeling like he was stretched too thin and the first time he'd actually been sick for a time.

But now, in the sunlight and open air, he could already feel the strength returning to him. He sighed and leaned back in his seat, letting the wind ruffle his too long hair, and taking solace in how…big and open the world was. He knew some people felt small compared to the rest of the world, but never him.

He didn't notice the way Sharon was watching him from the corner of her eye, lips pulled into a thoughtful frown.

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The apartment building he was staying in was University owned and thus had a student aid in the bottom apartment that was supposed to be available if they needed…something. What they could possibly need he wasn't sure, but if they did need anything he was there.

He was on the top floor, in one of four rooms. He'd luck out apparently and had managed to get the only single. He had the strange feeling that whoever was in charge of this little 'project' he was now involved with had arranged it that way. The better to keep a low profile he guessed.

It was pretty bare thus far. As in it had a bed, a kitchen table, a stove, and a refrigerator. He didn't even have a TV. It was also painted a sickly yellow-ish color throughout. He kind of suspected the place had once been white but had faded over the years.

All in all a little bit on the gross side.

Sharon seemed to agree because her nose wrinkled and she muttered something about this being the reason she'd stayed at home when she was going through school. He had to confess he saw the logic in that.

Next was walking to the on-campus café, called _The Café. _The name didn't strike Hotstreak as overly original or witty in the least but it seemed a decent enough place. The manager was a guy named Justin and was a Computer Tech major. He was about twenty-three, just shy of 6'6" and pretty solidly built. He was the clean cut all American sort, from his blue eyes to his polo shirt. It seemed he had a basketball scholarship but also had a Work Study thing going on. He showed him around, under Sharon's watchful eye, and asked him a few questions about himself.

He answered them as nondescriptly as possible. Shutze hadn't been lying; apparently no one remembered him or all of the 'chaos' he'd caused. (In his opinion chaos was highly subjective and shouldn't have been thrown around so casually.) How exactly that'd happened in just a few years was beyond him, but people were funny as far as memory went.

Then again he'd been out of Dakota for a few years. In the state, yeah, but outside of the city for most of his dealings. Static and Gear kept mostly to the city and taking his actions out of the limits had pretty much gotten them off of his back.

Unfortunately the cops weren't so inclined.

"You'll start tomorrow." Justin said finally.

He arched an eyebrow. "I thought I started today."

"Well. You were. But there's another kid working here as well, for the Work Study program, and he starts tomorrow and so you might as well get know the place and each other at the same time." Justin shrugged slightly while running a hand through his closely cropped blond hair. "Besides, you probably want to get unpacked and poke around the campus."

"Uh. Yeah. Sure." Hotstreak shrugged, not particularly caring. He didn't have anything to unpack and he wasn't all that curious about what was going on around here.

Sharon nodded at Justin politely then motioned for him to follow her out. He followed, not sure what else he could do at the moment. Besides, he didn't want to risk her being the one with the 'key' to his lovely new bracelets.

For some reason electroshock just didn't appeal to him.

He followed her out of the café and down the sunny streets of Dakota University's campus. The café was on 'DU Main Street' and the student store, admissions office, and assorted other…student oriented things lined the street. The library was there as well, across from all of the other stuff.

Oak trees lined the streets, casting shadows onto everything.

They went into the store and went straight for the counter. And who should be there except one Virgil Hawkins. He was a lot taller and little bit buffer; apparently he'd been working out but he was still the same guy. Dreads, bright brown eyes, and annoyingly bright fashion sense. Virgil must have remembered him as well because his eyes narrowed and his mouth opened and he looked ready to throw some kind of fit.

He didn't get a chance.

"Alright little brother, I'm going to explain this in little words so you'll understand." Sharon was speaking the moment Virgil's attention was on them. "You live a few blocks from here, in the same building as Francis. If you're nice he might help your dense behind find it."

Virgil shut his mouth with an audible click. Apparently he was about as intimidated by his sister as Hotstreak was. Good to know it wasn't just him.

"You remember that money I loaned you two months ago?" Sharon didn't wait for a response to her question, assuming that her brother did indeed recall. "I'll consider it paid if you refrain from being a pain in Francis' ass. He won't be bothering you and Richie, so don't you bother him."

"But Sharon he's-"

"I don't want to hear it."

"But-"

"No."

"Hotstreak-"

"NO."

She didn't raise her voice but Hotstreak heard the capital letters in her voice and would have felt a little sympathy if it wasn't so damn funny. And if it hadn't been Virgil Hawkins. He'd been a real pain in his ass back in high school; so watching him be tormented was very high on his amusing shit scale.

"Everyone deserves a second chance Virgil." Sharon's tone softened slightly and she leaned over the counter to ruffle her brother's dreads affectionately. (Hotstreak frowned. This was…not so amusing) "And so you're going to give him one. Or else I'll kill you."

Virgil made a noise halfway between protest and shock, before nodding slowly. Sharon smiled and pulled away. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear then titled her head off to the side.

"Where's your better half?"

"Ha. Ha." Virgil shrugged. "Last I checked he was wandering around the campus. Probably regrets turning town Harvard right about now."

Sharon sniffed. "Doubtful. I doubt Richie would rather be anywhere else but here. So, you boys play nice, okay?"

"Yes Sharon." Virgil rolled his eyes but nodded nonetheless.

She smiled again then turned her attention back to him. "Virgil is working here so he can help you find the books you need and such." She reached into her pocket and withdrew a plastic card. She held it out to him but held fast when he tried to take if from her. "This is yours. I already told you about using it wisely so…you know, don't use it all in one day."

"Yes. No fucking up, I remember."

"Why not just ask for the impossible?" Virgil muttered, drawing a cold glare from Sharon. He coughed then pretended to be interested in something on the counter.

She released the card then, with one last severe look at her brother, strode out of the building and, presumably, back to where she had parked her car.

Leaving him. Along. With Virgil Hawkins.

….

They stared at each other for a long moment then Virgil cleared his throat loudly.

"Well. Right. Class list?"

He opened the folder he'd kept tucked under his folder, pulled out the class list contained within, and held it out to Virgil. The younger teen took it then wandered off through the door that lead to…well the back of the shop. He leaned against the counter, fingers drumming on the top as he waited.

He heard the chime of a bell as the door opened but didn't bother turning to look.

"Excuse me, have you seen the guy who was working here?"

He blinked then turned slowly. He smiled darkly at the blond standing there, taking a sort of delight in the way he paled.

"Foley. It's been a while. Nice seeing you."

He too looked a bit different. Taller, a little shorter than Hawkins maybe, and his hair was a bit on the long side and it had lightened a shade or two over the years. He'd gone from one earring to about four, all in the same ear.

He didn't have time to notice much else because his arm was twisted behind his back and he was face down on the counter and wondering how little geeky Richie Foley had put him down. (Not why of course. Because he knew why… He wouldn't trust himself either.)

What the hell was going on?

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